Sheila is a screamer

Sheila is a screamer

fiction
edward w pritchard

Sheila is a screamer. It's been four months, I know she misses my attention. She required it every day before I was drafted.

I can hear her. Hear her through the iron and metal of this battle ship, three decks down, on my narrow net hammock. Sheila's a screamer and if I am here on my swinging hammock she has to be with someone else. It's been four months and I know her needs. Why couldn't she wait for me, she promised.

I am so seasick. It keeps me from getting into a deep sleep and then I startle when I hear Sheila screaming in ecstasy back in Maryland. I finally risked the embarrassment and told Phillips. He says I am scared and stressed, like everyone terrified to land on the beach here at Normandy.

Now we are in the open air. These small boats are dashing toward the shore. Machine gunners await. With the breeze and the noises of battle I can't hear Sheila anymore. I am trying not to think of that. I have to concententrate on a soldiers duties.
end